


Light Through The Cobwebs

by MarieAllen



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: But they're just dreams, Dreams, Eventual Adventure, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Helga has been dreaming of Arnold since she was 10, Maybe - Freeform, Now she's an adult, Romance, This was a oneshot but that didn't last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAllen/pseuds/MarieAllen
Summary: Helga moved from Hillwood when she was 10, and shortly thereafter began to dream of her lost love. Now, as an adult, the dreams never left. But what's real and what was Dream?
Relationships: Helga Pataki/Arnold Shortman
Comments: 18
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

She knew she was dreaming because Marco was sitting on her lap and he'd been dead for two years. The orange tabby had been hit by a car when Miriam had been too drunk to remember that she had been told numerous times not to let the cat outside. Marco had a gimpy front paw that curled in on itself, preventing him from being able to run or do any extreme climbing. Normally that was fine, except he hadn't stood a chance against running from that teenager who thought she ruled the road behind her new silver speedster. Marco had been born with the bad paw and his previous owner had abandoned him, not wanting a deformed kitten. Helga had come across him one day, very shortly after leaving Hillwood City and moving to Springfield, nine states away, and there was just something about those big green eyes that made her take him home instead of to the pound.

He had been with her for almost three years before he was killed.

But now, he had decided to visit her in her dreams, so she smiled down at him and scratched his right ear. His comforting purrs soothed her and while she tried not to feel guilty over his death and instead focused on how thankful that he was here with her now.

But after only a few minutes, the sound of crying drew her attention away from the cat on her lap.

Marco jumped down and wandered off, knowing that he no longer held her attention. As was often with the case with dreams, she forgets about him, even though she would love nothing more than to keep fawning over him – she misses him _so much_ – and instead walked towards the dark mass that was slouched in the corner of the room she suddenly found herself in, emitting sounds of pain.

She should be surprised to see Arnold in the corner of the empty room, his head buried between his knees, but she wasn't. In fact, this isn't the first time she has dreamt of him.

Even though it's been six years since she last physically saw him, her teenage mind had filled in the age lapse and instead of dreaming of the ten-year-old she left behind in Hillwood City, he's a lanky, kind of awkward sixteen-year-old. _Why_ she would dream of him like this instead of some romance novel hunk is beyond her, but she doesn't question it. Instead, she frowns down at him and slips her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, rocking onto her heels.

Normally when she dreamt of her first love, it's of him moping. At first they would just stare at each other with awkward confusion and she would wake up, still confused. Obviously having been forced to move away from the love of her life was doing creepy things to her psyche and her subconscious need for Arnold was much stronger than any distance between them. But, as the years passed, so did the pain of not having him in her life and the stare-a-thon dreams lessened.

The real change had been that time that Miriam locked her out of the house by some drunken mistake and Bob was away on business, so she had to sleep in the car, which had thankfully been left unlocked. Maybe it was because she had been so angry, hurt, and upset that she dreamed of him, or maybe because it was October and around his birthday and she had been thinking of him more than usual. Whatever the reason, there he had been, standing and staring at her.

And so she treated him as if he were one of her stuffed animal confidants and told him that she was sleeping in the car because Miriam's drunk ass couldn't hear her banging on the door.

The next time she saw him, it was the night she had gotten into a particularly nasty fight with Big Bob. Arnold just stood there and listened, still with that same uncertain look on his face as before. Gradually, the dreams became more frequent. Sometimes he would stand, sometimes he would sit, but he would always listen, rarely saying anything back. It was a nice, extra outlet that filled a small void her diaries and writing couldn't.

She had almost immediately noticed the correlation between what was happening to her in real life and the Arnold dreams. She only dreamed of him if she had really bad days, which were really too frequent for her taste. At least the good that came from it was Arnold.

But this particular day had been fairly normal. So why was he here? Crying? After all these years of her dreaming of him, never had she encountered _this_ Arnold.

He looked up at her and she could see that he had a few bits of acne scattered across his forehead and chin. Yay puberty. Maybe it was a sign that she was going to get a few new pimples soon herself. Fantastic.

His eyes were puffy and it was obvious he had been crying for a while. She half wondeed again why he was so upset in _her_ dream, but she didn't voice it aloud.

"Grandma died."

The walls literally shatter around them but neither paid any attention to it. The room melted down into darkness and the only thing she could see was him. She felt as if the wind was knocked from her and before she realized it, she was sitting right up against him, shoulder-to-shoulder. She didn't say or do anything for the remainder of the dream, but he was no longer crying. It really hurt her, that announcement from him. Although her interactions with Gertie had been few, they had always been very pleasant and she had always made Helga feel like things were going to be OK.

For a split second she wondered if this could be a lie, just a dream that people have sometimes of people dying, but it didn't feel like one. Perhaps, somehow, she had been able to connect to her old home and pull this information from the city.

The next night, he was sitting on a bench overlooking a lake she wasn't familiar with. It definitely wasn't Hillwood nor her now-home town of Springfield. Arnold wasn't crying but his face was swollen from fresh tears.

There was no hesitation as she sat next to him and suddenly there was bread in her hands, proving that she was indeed in Slumberland. She threw a piece into the lake when ducks materialized, knowing that she would never feed ducks bread in real life.

Arnold did not immediately say anything, so she did. "She was one of the only ones to treat me normally in Hillwood. Hell, even now, really. She was always so nice to me…even if she could never get my name right."

Helga didn't look at Arnold when he turned towards her, but she could feel the surprise coming from him when he responded. "I didn't realize you ever talked to her." Silence. Then, "But I guess I'm not surprised she didn't call you by your name. She was always getting things messed up…" There was no bitterness in his voice, just love and deep sadness.

She scoffed and threw another piece of bread into the pond. "No, _Bob_ always messed up my name. I always got the feeling that when she did it, it was more…well, affectionate, in a way. I mean, there were definitely no other kids with that name and it wasn't like she did it intentionally. Maybe it was more of a nickname or something." She'd hope that it was true. It'd be nice to have someone care enough to give her a nickname.

She threw another piece of bread and snickered again. "She was always nice, though, even when I didn't deserve it. There was this one time I was sleepwalking and I ended up in your kitchen and fell asleep at the table. Oh god, I can't believe I admitted that…"

Helga buried her face in her hand as she felt it heat up and refused to look at him. Fake or not, she wouldn't be able to face him. She could feel him looking at her though and continued, the humiliation not going away any time soon. "So, she made me breakfast and I hadn't even woken up yet. I can't even remember Miriam making me breakfast… And even before that, I was at the park and had skinned my knee. My parents weren't there, of course. I walked there myself. I think I was six. She picked me up, brushed off my knee and said 'a woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it's in hot water, Eleanor.' Eleanor Roosevelt said that once. It was kind of a weird thing to say both in that situation and to a little kid, but I've never forgotten it. Even now it helps me out. I guess she didn't know either, because that's always what she called me from then on out. Not Helga, but Eleanor."

Helga missed the look of shock that passed over Arnold's face. "Eleanor?" And then he was gone, dispersing into the air.

A month passed after their first real conversation before she dreamed of him again. That afternoon she had been playing football with a group of guys before it started to rain. But since they were tied, both teams had refused to leave until a victor arose. Of course it had been her. She had been captain, after all.

It seemed that her dream world wanted her to relive the victory, only she wasn't holding the pigskin ball, instead, her fingers were clenched around a dirty towel.

It was bright and sunny out and she looked completely out-of-place covered in mud and dripping wet, her hair plastered against her head and hanging limply in front of her face.

Arnold was staring at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. The expression didn't fit the childhood Arnold that she knew, yet it completely suited the lanky teen. "Rough day?"

She looked down at her clothes and rolled her eyes before rubbing her face with the towel in her hand. "What, have you never seen football aftermath? Criminy, Arnoldo. I know that you've been covered in mud before."

Arnold gave her a peculiar expression before pointing to her arm. "You're bleeding."

"Well, thanks for pointing out the obvious, Sherlock!" She stayed silent for a moment as she stared at the jagged line of bright red on her lower, right arm. This wound was from a few days ago and was unrelated to the football game, however she had reopened it today during the tumbling. Obviously it was going to scar but she shrugged it off. She could always say she got into a knife fight.

"I fell down a hill and sliced it open on some old pieces of metal that were sticking out. It hurts like hell, but what can ya do.? Probably needs stitches but whatever, the skin will still grow back."

Arnold was still giving her another look and she snapped at him. "What!?"

"How did you fall down a hill and into a pile of metal?"

Her face instantly heated up and she took in his surprised look. "I…" She huffed and folded her arms again. "I was picking flowers."

"You were…picking flowers." His voice was flat, disbelieving.

She glared at him when she noticed that he was trying not to laugh. "Shut up, Football Head."

"What were you doing, making a crown?" When her blush deepened he full on bust out laughing. Furious that Dream Arnold was making fun of her – something he would never do in real life - she slammed her fist into his shoulder. "I said stop it!" He snickered a little longer and rubbed his shoulder.

She could tell that he was about to say something, when suddenly the muddy earth below their feet – weren't they standing on grass a moment ago? – gave out. She reached out to grab something, _anything_ as she fell, but there was nothing around her and Arnold had vanished . She woke with a gasp.

She didn't dream of him again for six months. It was the longest stretch of time apart and even though it was just a substitute for the real thing, she missed him all over again. She had gotten so used to him being there when she really needed someone to vent to, whether it was once a week or once every month, so when the first night passed of a really bad day and Arnold didn't show up, it was disappointing. The second and third time were depressing. She stopped expecting him after the fourth time.

He turned up unexpectedly the night she had her last final in her first year of university. He was watering a plant of all things. Well, actually, no it wasn't a plant, but a bush. And he was dumping something out of a bowl, like old soup, so he wasn't technically watering it. She knew when she woke she'd be relieved and excited that she had seen him again, but her dream form acted as if no time had passed at all.

Walking up to him, she looked over his shoulder and frowned at the contents. "That looks like puke." When he looked over at her, not surprised that she was there, she was slightly startled to see how much he had changed since she had last seen him. He was still lanky, but gone was the acne and his hair was longer. Just a smidge, but she noticed.

"It didn't taste much better. I can't cook…I guess I got my cooking skills from Grandma."

"What were you trying to make?"

"Gumbo."

Helga blinked and searched his face before bursting out laughing. "Geeze, Football Head. Haven't you ever heard of starting small and building up?" Their surroundings changed and they found themselves in a kitchen, one she hadn't seen since Hillwood, and she started to peek into the cabinets.

"Like what?" The bush was gone, but the bowl was still in his hand.

"Like pasta. Surely you know how to make that." She smirks at him and he grumbles, looking down at his feet in embarrassment. "You know, Phoebe's mom used to make this breakfast thing every sleepover. Some southern-Japanese fusion thing. It's really easy and you can add whatever you want to it. Beans, sausage, hamburger…whatever. You just have to have eggs, rice, and gravy. The gravy isn't hard to make, either. It sounds like it wouldn't go together, but it totally works. I'll show you."

And so she does. He brings it up again the next time she sees him a few days later. It's the first time that he references something like this from a past dream and it excites her. She's been dreaming of him for years but this is the first time that something like this has happened. It's new and thrilling.

Will it happen again? Is she able to conjure memories for him? She tested him the next time by telling him that she's been taking college classes for business. He told her that he's taking Botany. She thought it was a weird choice for him, but he mentioned that his mother was proud, and that she was also a Botanist.

Two months later, when she finally saw him again, she asked how the Botany was working out for him. He looked pleased and began to yap about something she doesn't understand. Seriously, where does she come up with these things? But she was excited all over again with this newly discovered turn of events of her mind's creation. It looked like all those English and Creative Writing classes had totally paid off.

Helga listened to him as he spouts off about random crap she doesn't give a cent about but doesn't say anything. She can feel that she's going to wake up with the telltale sign of a headache in the base of her skull. As it begins, he turns to her and asks about her business classes. Her only response was a victorious grin, proving yet again her dream world was awesome now that she knew she could manipulate it.

Over the next few years, the dreams happened sporadically and she could no longer predict when they would happen, although, truthfully, she hadn't been able to for some time now. When she did dream of him, she rarely talked about herself anymore because he always made her feel weird when she did. He looked a little _too_ intense and sometimes found she couldn't even meet his eyes.

He had grown taller and he said that he got it from his dad's side of the family, but she wondered if it really was just from that side of the tree. The few times that he had talked about his parents, the stories never really make any sense to her. His parents met in San Lorenzo? He stopped an erupting volcano when he was born in a temple? Abner was a wedding gift from some sort of mysterious people? Yeah right. She made a mental note that she really needed to start writing about this stuff and turn it into a publisher one day. But she knew she would change her mind in the morning and decided to horde it just for her.

Stupid dreams.

Ironically, all they ever did in the dreams was talk. They were never romantic and never awkward like they had been when she first started having them. They were nothing like her normal dreams, when she could even remember those, much like the ones where she was flying or breathing underwater. It was funny, now that she thought about it, that she almost never forgot Dream Arnold stuff.

The dreams never had any background stuff. It was always about them and their immediate surroundings. Sometimes there was nothing and sometimes there was a scene, but it never expanded to more than just the immediate setting and more than half the time they were so dream-like it didn't matter. They never acknowledge them, anyway.

As she continued to grow into adulthood, the dreams started to confuse her. For the first time, she started to really question her sanity. Even when she was dating, she still dreamed of a boy she hadn't seen nor heard of since she was a kid. Hell, she didn't even know if he still remembered her or if he was even still alive.

Ok, so she took that a bit too far, but it was still a point. Why was she continuing to dream about a guy she didn't know?

Even if he had filled out, losing his lankiness, and gaining muscle…looking yummier than almost any other guy she had ever met. When she had first started dreaming of him like that, she hadn't been afraid to tease him about it. Seriously, how had lanky Arnold turned into Mr. Delicious Flower Man?

And that was how the name had broken his embarrassment and caused them both to almost die of hysterics, but the name stuck, eventually evolving to D-Flo-Man to, of all things, Osiris. She had been into Egyptian mythology at the time and, among many other things, Osiris was the god of vegetation. It fit the would-be botanist.

She flirted with him a lot after bestowing him with that name and it didn't take him long to respond in kind. It made her feel giddy and alive in a way she had never felt before. Helga was not known to be cozy with people, but it didn't stop guys from trying. Although she didn't see it herself, female classmates who weren't quite friends but better than acquaintances, had frequently pulled her aside to tell her that she had caught so-and-so's attention. It was unnerving and it took a while for her to be able to identify when a guy was trying to flirt with her. But once she did, she high-tailed it out of there. Of course, that was different with Dream Arnold.

He never made it awkward except when he did it on purpose, the weirdo. And ever since she started calling him Osiris and eventually Si for short, he had made it a mission to come up with a name for her, too. Naturally, she refused every single one of them, including Osiris' counterpart Isis (which, although made her heart beat faster at the idea, it also freaked her out), but he was assured that he'd find something. After years of just friendship and venting, it seemed to almost, quite literally, change overnight. Their dynamic was always on point though, proving yet again her control over the universe she had created.

It wasn't long after his declaration of determination in finding her a name that she had been dreaming of being stuck out in the rain. It was her sophomore year in University and she had been walking to class when the rain had come out of nowhere. The dream was no doubt brought on because the same thing had literally just happened to her that afternoon. Thankfully, the rain in real life had been light and she hadn't been soaked like she had been in the dream, but with how real things were in this world she'd created, it really sucked.

But then, out of nowhere, much like the rain had began, Arnold was suddenly there, holding one of the largest umbrellas she'd ever seen. She blinked up at him, wholly unexpected, and he smiled down at her, keeping them both protected from the water pouring down. "Atlatona."

Still standing rooted in the spot and holding onto her books against her chest, as she hadn't brought her bag that day, she could only stare at him. He adjusted his position so he was standing perfectly in front of her and pushed back her hair that was plastered on her face.

"'She who shines in the waters.' That's what I'm going to call you."

Warmth shivered through her arms, no doubt matching the probable-redness in her face. She wanted to protest but her mouth wouldn't open as she continued to stare up at him, not quite understanding or recognizing the look on his face. It was too gentle, too focused to be anything other than… No, that couldn't be right. This was Dream Arnold, her imaginary best friend and confidant. There's no way he had a look indicating that he wanted to kiss her.

Then, before she could say or do anything to further deny anything, the dream ended and she woke up to a sunny morning.

She didn't see that look again for a couple of years and had all but forgotten it, slipping back into the banter they'd always had with complicated feelings to go with it. Every time she thought about this unhealthy thing she had going on in her sleep, she pushed it away. Dreams were meant to be an escape and there was absolutely no harm in this. No one was getting hurt. So what if she didn't date or casually see any guys? It was fine. Completely, utterly fine...


	2. Chapter 2

The dream started with Arnold about to make a passion fruit drink. Helga had been intrigued, it reminded her of some of the drinks she'd had in South America the one time she'd been there, and watched intently as he told her the proper steps to make the drink. Smiling, he handed her the cup to try it.

"This is actually pretty good," she said in surprise. If she could create this here, she'd have to remember how to do it once she woke. It was really good! Grinning up at him, the cup still close to her mouth in preparation for another sip, she couldn't help but tease him. "Aw, look how much you've grown in the kitchen, Sy. Puke gumbo to delicious fruit drinks."

He smirked at her and leaned back against the counter and she realized that they were in her kitchen in her apartment. "What can I say? I had a good teacher. And I'll have you know I'm quite the exceptional cook now, thank you very much. I really should cook for you more often so you're not forced to eat tarantulas and baby birds." His face contorted with disgust and she couldn't help but laugh at him in reference to some of the more unusual foods she had to eat due to her job.

"Says the guy who considers grubs a staple!"

As a blogger-turned-travel writer, Helga often found herself in the oddest places, and, not one to shy away from things, she tried to immerse herself in the culture. It was a far cry from her childhood, wanting to stay away from outdoorsy stuff and hating, absolutely hating all kinds of bugs. And although a part of her was queasy at trying some of the foods she had eaten, she almost always tried it once. Not necessarily twice, though.

She had commented on it once and Arnold was quick to remind her that he too was not a stranger to unusual local foods as he completed his tertiary education in his birth country of San Lorenzo.

"Grubs are good!"

"Yeah, just like that junk you called gumbo… I can't believe I didn't die just by smelling it. You should have found a teacher long before me."

He laughed at her, taking the drink from her hand to sip from it himself. "You were the only one crazy enough to believe in me. Even Grandpa thought I had too much of Grandma in me."

"Hey, she made me breakfast a few times and from what I had, it was delicious. I have no doubt she could cook when she really wanted to."

Arnold smiled at that with a slight nod. "Yeah, she could. Especially when I was young and her mind was a little bit more there. There was this cake that she used to make that was absolutely perfect. But she forgot the recipe and couldn't make it after a while. One day I'll figure out what that secret ingredient was but until then, I'm determined to try every cake I can."

Helga laughed at him. "That sounds more like an excuse to me. Be careful, cake is known to cause big tummies." She poked him for emphasis.

He grinned down at her, still leaning up against the counter. "Will you still think I'm deliciously sexy when that happens?"

"Mm, maybe. It's possible that I have a thing for fat, bald guys."

"Bald!" he looked at her in mock horror, putting his hands on his head. "That'll never happen! I'll have you know my dad still has a thick head of hair."

She grinned. "Are you sure about that? Your grandpa was bald. It tends to skip generations."

Arnold groaned and sunk to the floor in exaggeration, his hands still protectively covering his head as if that would prevent his shoulder-length hair from falling out. "My entire world has suffered a massive axle turn."

She laughed at him and decided to sit instead of helping him up. "Don't be such a crybaby. Bald is beautiful, you know." He groaned again and hung his head at her sing-song quote, causing her to laugh again.

Suddenly, just as quickly as he started pouting, he smirked and poked her arm. "It's funny that you have this."

Helga looked at where he was pointing, confused for a moment as to why he was referring to her scar. "Why?"

"Because I never really thought of you as the picking flowers type of girl growing up."

She was momentarily startled, almost forgetting herself how she had gotten it, but then she was reliving the teasing he had given her years ago. "Why? I could be sweet when I wanted to be," she huffed, rubbing her scar as if trying to protect it, and herself, from any potential unpleasantries. It had been far too long since they had trodden into childhood territory and it was never a place where she wanted to visit. Dream memories were safe and didn't force her to look too deeply into things she didn't want to address.

He smiled down at her, looking maybe a bit too relaxed. There was a softness there that she didn't see too often on him but whenever he looked at her that way, her stomach flopped. It had been a couple of years since that rain dream where he had bestowed his nickname upon her, but it was only lately he had given her one of those looks again. The one that was turning her into putty, made her stomach clench, and wished for things that could never be true.

His voice was low when he responded and it sent butterflies fluttering right into her stomach. "I know."

She woke up after that with the feeling that he had been about to kiss her. It was a feeling that was starting to become normal and it confused her. On one hand, they were just dreams and she could dream whatever she wanted to. It was a safe space where she couldn't be hurt and she knew exactly where they stood. On the other hand, it was new, a bit frightening, and she had no idea what would happen if she succumbed to more carnal feelings, regardless of how natural and normal they were.

But…it was Dream Arnold. They'd been friends far longer than she'd been his tormentor, but she had a notion that if she did kiss him, it would lead to sex, which would spiral downwards into a cyclone of repressed feelings and into an unconscious completion, and she would lose him. And that couldn't happen.

All day she felt torn and she couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that floated around her like a dark cloud. Which was ridiculous! The whole thing was. She wanted to kiss him. It was literally a dream, nothing more. This was all in her head and she shouldn't be spending so much time thinking about this. Any of it. Dreams were dreams and she was real. Dream Arnold was not. She controlled the dreams and if she wanted to kiss him, then she damn well would and no amount of childhood unrequited love-turned-dream-actual would change that. It was rare that a night passed that she didn't see him, so there was no way that would change. It didn't change when she hugged him or flirted so why would this be any different? It wouldn't so she had nothing more to be afraid of.

When she settled in that night in her sleeping bag, under a fabric tent in Thailand, she was determined. The dream started almost immediately.

Instead of finding herself in familiar surroundings, Helga walked g down a barely-used path with broken fern fronds on either side, following the muddy boot prints in front of her. Birds and bugs sang in the distance and if it wasn't for the easy feeling she currently had, she would have thought herself crazy to go off, following some unknown person in the middle of the jungle.

Just when she was about to talk herself out of continuing, believing that maybe this was a bit too crazy, she came across a clearing. She hadn't heard the roar of the waterfall before, but standing so near to it now, it was unmistakable. It wasn't as loud as she thought it should be, having experienced Niagara Falls in high school, but it was easily thirty feet tall. So not the biggest by any means, but still, a wonderful sight. She didn't realize it at first, but this was one of the first times she could remember actually seeing her surroundings. Even walking down the path she could only see some of it, not really knowing exactly where she was.

Now she realized she was definitely in some sort of jungle. Dozens of shades of green with equal or maybe even more brilliant colors and varieties of flora lit up the area, the mist of the water hovering just so, creating the illusion of water falling into a cloud.

It was gorgeous.

That was when she noticed Dream Arnold's prone figure on the ground, bare feet just barely touching the water. She hesitated before moving towards him, not because she was shy by any means, but because of his apparent lack of clothing. Shorts hung low on his hips and that was all he wore. No shirt, no stinky socks, and certainly no heavy boots that she had been following. Instead, they were placed to the side, this shirt neatly rolled up. His arms were behind his head and it was only when she moved closer did she realize his eyes were closed. He was wearing the necklace he always had in her dreams: an eye-shaped medallion with a green stone in the center.

Surely he wasn't sleeping in her dream.

She hovered over him, squatting low enough that her loose hair almost touched his face. His bare chest rose slowly and she only gave herself a quick moment to visually appreciate his body. Helga wasn't one to dish out compliments, but she could definitely give credit when credit was due. And while she wasn't the self-boaster that she had been in her youth, she definitely praised her mind for conjuring this.

"Are you dead?" She focused back up at him, not wanting to be caught in the cliché scene of the person who was supposed to be asleep waking up while being checked out. "Can I have-"

"I don't have any fire, Atlatona," he interrupted, his eyes still closed. Helga couldn't up the short giggle and sat next to him. The Croods was one of her guilty pleasures and he had been victim to watching it with her many a time, even if it was just in the background while they cooked or talked or whatever it was they were getting into.

"Where are we?"

"My thinking spot," he replied, still unmoving.

"Mm. Specifics. Why are we at your thinking spot?"

"Because I'm supposed to be thinking. But you're interrupting me."

"Ah, well, ok, I guess I'll go and see what's behind the waterfall then. I bet there's some sort of markings or maybe even treasure-" she made to get up but he grabbed her arm, eyes still closed. She snickered and started to sit back down.

"I'm surprised you're here. This is actually a sacred area."

"Really?" She looked around. It was indeed very beautiful but it didn't scream anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it looked more like a combination of every jungle movie and picture she'd seen before. "Well, it is a dream. It's not like I can be blocked from any place while dreaming."

"Actually, you can. The gods are very secretive and protective and dreamstates are pretty much their domain." She looked down at him with a frown, realizing then that his eyes were slightly cracked up, looking up at her.

"Well, maybe I finally did enough good deeds to get here, then."

He didn't respond, simply gave her one of those half smiles, and tugged on a loose strand of her hair. "You, good deeds?"

She frowned at him and poked his side, instantly earning a squirm from him. She'd learned a few years ago that he was exceptionally ticklish. "Watch it, bucko. I've been known to do good stuff. How are you here, anyway?"

He grinned widely at her and turned to his side, leaning his head into his propped hand. "I'm a god, remember?" It had been some time after she started calling him Osiris that he had started joking about him being called a god by the indigenous people of San Lorenzo because of his birth circumstances. And while he did interact with them from time-to-time, helping them when they needed it, he kept his distance because it always made him feel awkward. She really never should have started calling him that. It was one thread in this dream world that she had no way of controlling. "I'm always welcome here."

She didn't hold back her laugh at that. "Yeah, right! God of what? Football heads?"

"Well, yeah, actually. Green Eyes symbol, remember?" he responded with a grin.

She laughed again at his somewhat serious tone and shook her head. "Ok, Osiris, whatever you say."

He continued to grin at her. "See? Wrong religion, but even you can't deny my status."

She grinned back at him, poking him in the shoulder again. "You once told me Atlatona was also a goddess, so what does that make me? A goddess? Which means, if this is the realm of gods, goddesses naturally belong here too. Besides, we all know who wields the true power."

He didn't respond but simply smiled and reached for a loose strand again. She'd always had a sort of wave to her hair, but when puberty hit, the wave turned more into a soft curl. He'd often play with her hair if she allowed it, wrapping a finger around one like he was now. "I like it when you wear your hair down."

She laughed again, gentler than before, but didn't push him away. "I'm sure you do. After all, you're going to be bald in a few years."

He groaned at that and shifted to sit up. "You're truly a horrible person. I don't believe for one bit that you've done anything good lately."

"It'll just leave you guessing then, won't it?" she responded, still grinning. He looked at her and when he didn't immediately say anything, instead looking at her with that half-lidded look he so often gave her, she nudged him with her shoulder. "So what were you thinking about?"

A shadow passed over his face and the expression was so unlike anything she had ever seen on him before, it momentarily stunned her. It had been a look of anger and fury but it was gone almost as fast as it appeared and she had to wonder if she had seen it at all.

Instead of responding to her question, he quickly leapt to his feet. "They say that this water has magical properties."

"Oh? They say?" she knew a question-evasion when she saw one, but played along and focused on the water. Obviously it wasn't time for her subconscious to tell her about it yet. Or maybe she'd just have to figure it out on her own when she woke. "What does it do?"

"Turns naughty girls into well-behaved Stepford wives." He gathered her in his arms then and she let out a laugh, flailing her legs, trying to buck away from him as he walked into the water.

"Don't you dare! Put me down!"

He grinned down at her so broadly that she thought his face would split. "Oh, but I most certainly do."

"Arnold-!" she yelled as he chucked her into surprisingly deep water. She quickly kicked her way to the surface, letting out a howl of rage as she fought against her heavy clothes and now bare feet, the flip flops she had been wearing having slipped off. "What the hell!"

She let out a surprised squeak when an arm grabbed her from behind, having not realized that Arnold was there, and he threw her back out into the deeper water. She couldn't help but come up laughing this time and swam away from him. "You're such an asshole!"

"No, but I have one, just like everyone else."

"Oh my god, don't be so crude!"

He grinned at her, giving her a look that was all mischief, and lazily began swimming towards her. Not trusting him for even a second, she splashed at him knowing full well that it wouldn't stop him. But it was just something people did while trying to put distance from one another in a body of water and Helga was no exception.

Laughing, she ducked under and pushed towards the edge of the pond to get out. But no sooner had she started swimming, that he grabbed her ankle, yanking her back. A puff of air escaped her and she broke the surface again, laughing. The water was much shallower here and she was able to find her footing, the water coming up to her shoulders.

Arnold had surfaced shortly after, still wearing the same grin and she didn't hesitate to push him back into the water. "I can't believe you, Football Head. You're lucky I don't beat you for this."

He chuckled as he followed her out of the water. "Like you could."

"Oh I most certainly could and you know it." She stopped and turned to him, her fists on her waist as she glared at him without any heat. The water stopped just below her knee, tugging at her pants as Dream Arnold caused ripples walking towards her.

The water was dripping off him and it made his skin glisten in the beams of sun that passed through the open part of the trees. She blinked, taking in his body really for the first time. Even though he normally wore looser shirts, there had never been denying he was fit. She knew for a fact he didn't go to the gym – he told her that the first time she had punched his arm and been shocked to feel how hard it was – but she had no idea what he did professionally that would result in…well, results like this.

Not that he had to work in dreams. He was just fit, finally fitting into the romance novel cover that she joked about him lacking in her high school years.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You can be terrifying when you want to be," he responded as he stopped in front of her. She fought the sudden urge to reach out and touch his chest to see if it was as hard as his arms were.

Swallowing, she met his eyes with a raised eyebrow. "Terrifying, hmm? What have I done that's terrifying?"

He grinned. "From experience? Everything between the ages of three and ten."

She couldn't help herself from reaching out to the necklace. She had seen it a ton of times before, had it memorized to the point where, if she could draw, she'd be able to make a detailed reproduction of it, but by picking it up, she could discreetly graze her fingers against his skin. Yep, most definitely solid.

"And what about after ten?"

"Well…you moved away, so I can only guess." His voice was lowered and she looked back up at him just as he started to brush aside a few pieces of her hair that stuck to her face. "But from what I've been able to gather these past few years, I can safely say that you can leave a path of destruction behind if you wanted to. Although I fortunately have not had to experience that."

"Mm. That is very true." He was close now, closer than he had been before he stopped. Had he even moved? She could feel the heat radiating from him as she gently laid the necklace back down and, without even fully realizing what she was doing, rested her hand next to it. His heartbeat pumped sturdy against his ribcage. "Perhaps it's a good thing you've never been on that path then." A drop of water fell from her hair and onto her mouth. Instead of removing her hand from him, her tongue slipped out and caught the droplet. His eyes lowered at the movement and a shiver ran down her spine as she watched him watching her lips.

"I'd much rather be beside you. It's where I've always wanted to be."

She blinked at his response, her eyes widening. What was that supposed to mean? Before she could ask, though, his face ducked down and his lips were on hers.

His kiss was slow and gentle but it hit her hard. Her stomach clenched and her skin tingled and for the first time she felt full of energy and numb at the same time. Blood coursed through her veins, warming her to the tips of her toes, which, naturally, curled into the sand she stood on. Snaking her arms around his neck, she pulled herself closer to him the same time as he moved closer to her.

She'd been kissed before, but this was literally something out of her dreams. Even though she was a romantic at heart and enjoyed her fair share of romance novels, there had never been the spark like in the stories. It had always been a work of fiction for her, but this...it felt so real.

With a soft groan, she felt the sand against her back. The gentle current of the lake lapped at their feet, the warm water distracting her enough to bend her legs and separate unconsciously. Warmth continued to spread through her, his hands, which were now wandering, leaving a hot trail behind.

Helga was not a virgin, but after both times there had been regrets. The encounters had been purely human need without any emotional connection that had left her feeling dissatisfied, the act completely lacking and lacklustre. The fools had sought their own needs and clearly didn't know how to please a woman. Arnold on the other hand, proved to be exactly like the dream he was.

She had never felt anything like the pleasure he had given her. And when he entered her for the first time, she had never felt so complete. It was straight out of one of her trashy novels and it was nothing like she had ever experienced before. The once-thought exaggeration of orgasmic fireworks were myths to her until that night and when she reached her peak three times, one even more pleasurable than the last, she didn't think anything could be more right.

But how wrong she was. Her fears would prove to be true. Once she gave in and satisfied her childhood romantic fantasies, there was no reason for Dream Arnold to stick around. It would be the last time she dreamt of him and a piece of her died when the light went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to DarkUnderworld for betaing! Glossed-over eyes skipped over a ton of grammatical errors and I'm ever thankful to her for her corrections.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed this so far! I appreciate all of you!


	3. Chapter 3

The day after she graduated University, she took the money left over from her scholarships and went to Africa, spent six weeks on the continent before making her way to Europe. It was another two months backpacking in eight countries before she headed back home to Springfield, albeit reluctantly. She hadn't spoken to Bob and Miriam since her second year in University, but because Springfield was where they had moved to all those years ago and was where she attended her tertiary education, it felt natural to return there. At first she entertained the idea of going back to Hillwood and seeing if she could find any of the old gang, but some of them had reached out to her on Facebook during Uni. Arnold, as far as she could tell, was not on it. Not that it mattered. She didn't think she could be friends with him on there after dreaming about him for almost over a decade.

So home to Springfield was the destination for now. It was during that time she built her blog.

While away and enjoying a small part of the world, she had come up with the idea of starting a blog for travelers, not unlike herself. One thing that had annoyed her about the travel books she had picked up along the way was that they were so _touristy_. There was literally the same stuff in every single book. She loved seeing the sites that people didn't really know of or talk about. And the harder they were to get to, the more she loved them. It was the satisfaction of completing something hard that not many others had accomplished that really solidified for her to do something like a blog. She had met others along the way that had the same complaints as her, so why not start one? Even for a small base, she was happy to help out even just a few people who wanted to do the same things as she had.

It was her write-up of Santa Cruz del Isolte in Columbia, about forty-nine miles southwest of Cartagena of all places that boosted her readers, and before long she was actually seeing a small kickback in the ads on the site. Not enough to really do anything with, but it did pay for lunch a few times.

And once she wrote about the Fish River Canyon in Namibia, her notoriety skyrocketed. That obscure trail she had stumbled across was her key to success. Offers had flown in ranging from dollars to write a review to grants to write articles.

It had been crazy for her with this newfound popularity. In the end, she had decided to go with the grant that would let her go where she wanted and write about what she wanted, as long as the magazine that her proprietor owned had first dibs. It would mean she would have to give up her blog, but really, that was fine with her. Normally she would have been all about independence, not having to work for "the man", and not being a sellout, but truth be told, she could care less about running a crappy website that was a dime a dozen in the industry of hobby travelers. She would actually get to be published on a heavily-established website going this route, which brought in the big bucks. Then, once she had enough, she could work for herself. And she got to travel wherever she wanted, even places that had previously been off-limits to her because of the expense.

It was a pretty sweet deal since her travel-related expenses were covered almost entirely under this new contract, and because she rarely bought any souvenirs and had no bills at home, she was able to pretty much stick everything into savings.

So, she was able to get paid to do what she loved, and reimbursed for meals to live off of? Done!

But what was the catch? That she couldn't figure out yet. There had been only a two-page contract and nothing was shady in it. There was no fancy lingo that she couldn't figure out and it didn't appear that she was being taken advantage of, so why did it seem too good to be true?

That had been three years ago, and they had been absolutely amazing. With the exception of Antarctica, she had been on every continent at least twice and was able to live out her fantasy of writing; her trusty, nearly indestructible laptop as her only companion. And up until seven months ago, Dream Arnold.

It was now May and she was making her way through the forest of one Central American country after another. It was the longest trip she'd decided to stay on, but she was determined to find something amazing. Having been to Egypt, Mexico, China, Iraq, and Cambodia to see the famous pyramids of their ancient civilizations, she felt drawn to find out more about them. What she wanted to find, or what the actual purpose of this trip was , she had no idea.

So, she did what she did best: wander.

Ever since Dream Arnold mentioned his epic birth in San Lorenzo, she had always pictured herself going there. Yet, every time she would book a flight, something happened. The flight was cancelled due to weather; there was a riot at the origin airport and they were just putting people on any open flight to get them out of there; she somehow wrote down the wrong date and would have to wait a week for the next flight out, it was like the destination was cursed.

But ever since she had stopped dreaming of Arnold, the urge to go there grew even more. Now, being so close, she figured she could just pop herself over and really see what this place was all about, and for once, she had a good feeling about this time.

* * *

Helga arrived in Puerto Clara, San Lorenzo late in the evening, giving her just enough time to check in with her host, the ever charismatic Emiliano Cotta, and pass out. The plane rides had been long and loud due to screaming kids and turbulence. Her ears were still ringing from the crying toddler that had sat behind her when she had finally boarded her last flight and her head had made contact with her pillow. Normally plane rides were easy and smooth, but this flight had been something else.

As easy as it had been to fall asleep in the plush bed that had been pushed up against the wall in the lavish room she was occupying, she woke up feeling immensely disappointed. She had hoped that by being in San Lorenzo, she might have been able to dream of Arnold again, but no such luck. And even though it was only her first night, it already left her feeling low.

She tried to not let it affect her day, but she couldn't help but think about it.

How sad and pathetic was she to be so upset over a dream? He wasn't even real and yet her heart was heavy; like she had broken up with a long-term boyfriend. So what if she had spent her childhood loving him from afar; pining after him from behind trash cans and in closets, and then spending her teenage and early adult years trying to ignore all of that because he was just a figment of her imagination.

She could never hold a real relationship because of Dream Arnold, and his disappearance should have been her chance at a clean break. It would have finally given her the chance to focus on a real, breathing man instead of one that existed solely in her dreams.

But she didn't. She couldn't. She judged every man she met against him and blocked every chance of being in a healthy relationship because she found them all wanting. At first it could have been blamed on the fact that she was mourning over the loss, but that excuse could only go so far. _He wasn't real_. Why couldn't she let this go? Why did she keep insisting on trying to chase after a figment she had created when she had been suffering during some of her lowest points while growing up?

Sure, the real Arnold was out there somewhere, living his life and no doubt completely having forgotten about her years ago. God, how sick was she? To be behaving like this? If he had an inkling of this obsession that had never waned, he'd have her committed, or arrested, one or the other.

This was it though, she would finally let the dreams go. It was appropriate, really, kismet even. She was in San Lorenzo, a country she solely associated with Arnold. She'd be there for a couple of weeks, say her goodbyes, and move on. She could totally do it. She totally, absolutely could. And she would. She had to. This was getting way too out of hand.

Tonight she was supposed to attend Emiliano's party. She'd enjoy it, meet people, and leave tomorrow afternoon to get the article taken care of. If for no other reason, then she owed it to her gracious host.

Emiliano Cotta had to be the living embodiment of Santa Claus if there ever was such a person. She had met him by chance when she had almost fallen into a dig site in Chile that he was visiting. Although retired himself, he financed a lot of archaeological digs and tried to visit them when he could. She had just so happened to almost disrupt one of his sites while he was there.

The wealthy San Lorenzo native had been fascinated with her from the beginning. She was used to that, people admiring and envying the fact that it was her job to travel and write about it, but he had been there and done that as well. He knew what she was talking about when she reminisced about that pizza place in St. Thomas and how remarkably breathtaking the fjords were, and how she could easily believe that trolls actually lived in the steep cliffs.

Helga had taken to him like a fly to honey, and the fact that he was from San Lorenzo? How could she not want to know more about him?

They had kept in touch over the last three months and after deciding she would visit, she had reached out to him. Emiliano had been thrilled to play host for the couple of days that she'd be in Puerto Clara before heading off to explore more of San Lorenzo and then again before she left.

Her arrival had coincided with a local holiday so she had arrived a day earlier to rest up and find a proper dress. She wasn't looking forward to it as she was still not one to play dress-up. But just like her given name for him, Emiliano had gifted her a gorgeous outfit that even she could admit to being impressed with, and who was she to deny him?

She had even allowed his wife to put makeup on her. Her own two daughters had left home many years ago, married, and had children of their own, and Helga could tell she was delighted to dote on her. Even though everything inside of her reacted vehemently against allowing this, she couldn't deny Emiliano's wife.

As she fixed her hair, deft hands pulling and rearranging strands of hair as she went on and on about the colour of Helga's hair and how she looked like something out of a movie, Helga didn't doubt that it was she who had picked out her red dress.

As the party started at the estate - it was way too large to just be called a house - Helga stayed by Emiliano's side as he made introductions. Politicians and local wealthy friends who she would never remember the names of breezed past her. She didn't belong there in the throngs of wealth and fabulousness. This wasn't her world. Olga, definitely, but not Helga.

After some time, she was able to excuse herself to get some fresh air. Emiliano, needing no explanation, kissed her cheek and told her to take her time.

That was how she found herself outside, drawn to a loud commotion at the front of the gate. "I must get inside! Let me through!"

Stopping a distance away, Helga stood next to one of the guards she had spoken with the day before when she had arrived. "Who is he?"

The guard shrugged. "Some crazy man. This is not so unusual an occurrence, actually. Sr. Cotta draws a lot of interesting crowds."

"I see…" She watched as the man in discussion struggled against two much larger bodyguards as they forcibly pushed him out.

"No, no! I have to go in! La Cabeza is found! I must deliver this to Señor Cotta before it's too late!"

Helga frowned at the man's declaration and was troubled that no one seemed to react to it. Just how common was this? As the man was pushed closer to the gate, his fighting and voice became more frantic.

"Is it written?" she called out, startling herself. But she didn't shy back and instead took a couple of steps towards the men. What harm could it do? If he was insane, then he was insane. But if he wasn't, then it should be brought to Emiliano's attention immediately. The man's struggling stopped as he turned his attention to her, eyes wide from his panic and chest heaving.

"Yes, yes! I have it here! Will you take it to Sr. Cotta?"

His nod was immediate and she continued towards him. "Of course."

"Señora, please, let them do their jobs. This man could be very dangerous."

"Julio, if it's just a letter, I would be happy to take it to Emiliano. If this man is truly crazy, then it won't matter, but if he's right, won't El Señor demand to know why he wasn't seen?"

The three men exchanged glances, obviously having not thought of that. Better safe than sorry, right? However, as soon as she had the envelope in hand, they quickly started pushing him back out as the man spouted out his thanks.

Helga looked at the unimpressive envelope on both sides. There were no markings but she could see, even in the dim outside light, that there was something written on the inside. Smiling at the guards and thanking them as well, she swiftly made her way back inside.

It took a few minutes to locate her host, not having seen him once she had made it back inside. He had last been seen in his office, but that had been almost thirty minutes ago (how long had she been outside?) and so she was relieved to hear the voices inside.

Hating that she was obviously intruding, but not wanting to hold onto the envelope any longer than necessary, she knocked.

"Yes?" came his muted voice.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there was a man at the gate ranting about a La Cabeza. He demanded to speak to you-" she was cut off when the door swung open, revealing a shocked Emiliano.

"La Cabeza, you said?"

Helga nodded and handed him the envelope, taken aback by his eagerness in taking it. Obviously she had been right to stop the guards. "Come in, quickly." He left her at the door and retreated back inside, devouring the contents.

Frowning, she took a few steps inside and closed the door behind her. "I'm sorry I can't really give you any other information other than that, but he was…" Helga trailed off when she caught sight of the other occupant.

He was staring at her, his expression of disbelief no doubt mirroring hers.

It had been almost fifteen years since she had seen him in real life, yet he looked exactly as he had in her last dream of him. The same broad shoulders, haircut…hell, even the way he stood was familiar.

The shock to her system froze her in place. Ice rolled through her veins and her feet were p rooted to the spot, which she was oddly thankful for as she didn't think she would still be standing otherwise. She didn't know how long they stood there, staring at each other, but it couldn't have been longer than a couple of seconds, tops.

"Mija, I am so sorry, please forgive my rudeness. This is Arnold Shortman, my associate. Arnold, come, meet Helga Pataki, one of the most amazing young persons I know! Present company aside, of course," he chuckled.

Arnold seemed to have shaken out his surprise because in the next moment, he looked relaxed. His grin – oh God, _that grin_ – brightened and he started towards her. "We actually know each other."

"Oh? Have you crossed paths before?"

"Many times. We went to the same elementary school. Although it's been quite some time, hasn't it?"

She too shook herself out of her surprise and responded with a mental shake of her head, trying to clear it and stop the somersaults that were occuring in her stomach. "A long time, yes." She turned to Emiliano who was looking back and forth between them, wearing his typical jovial expression. "I moved away when I was ten."

"My! You must have a lot to catch up on! About all of the adventures! Maybe over lunch tomorrow, yes? But first, this letter, you said a man brought it?"

"Yes. He was at the gate when I happened to walk by." She turned her attention back to her host, thankful to focus on him rather than the chaotic emotions tornadoing inside of her. "The guards were forcing him out but he kept going on about having to give you this letter and that he had found La Cabeza. I figured it wouldn't hurt to deliver it."

"What did this man look like?" She spared a glance over at Arnold, who had asked the question, but looked around the office when she answered, trying desperately not to look at him. It was too awkward. She felt like a coward but she couldn't get a hold of her emotions. Her heart skipped at the sound of his voice, enveloping her like a warm blanket on a cold, snowy day. "Short, maybe five-two? Brown hair. It looked like he was trying to grow out a beard but he had patches that didn't seem to have much growth at all."

The men looked at each other and she regarded their expression. "Alonso."

"He's alive?" Arnold's comment was so soft that she had to have heard wrong. What an odd thing to say. It was forgotten almost immediately when Emiliano cried out.

"Ah ha!" He wore one of the largest grins she had ever seen as his surprisingly strong arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, spinning her around. Helga couldn't help the smile that escaped at the display of his infectious excitement. "My wonderful girl! Do you have any idea what this means?!" He kissed her cheeks with a loud smack but did not wait for a reply. "I will be right back!"

Helga watched him go with dread, totally not ready to be alone with Arnold. She had never in her entire life felt more awkward than she did now.

"I like your dress."

Ok, not _that_. She turned to him fighting a frown. Really, after all these years, that's his go-to? "Thanks."

"Who designed it?"

His expression was so earnest she couldn't help but stare at him as if he had grown another head. What kind of life had he led that this was a basic question for him to break the ice? "I don't know, I'm not really into fashion. Felina picked it out."

To his credit, he blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, right. I'm sure you made her day with that. Emiliano said he had a guest staying with him for a few days. I never in a million years would have guessed it was you."

She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her hip, raising an eyebrow at him. "Maybe expecting someone more like Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd in shindigs like this instead of little ol' dirty-knees me?"

"No! That's not what I meant at all." He took a step closer, his eyes wide. He looked slightly panicked, just how he had so many times in her dreams of him when he put his foot in his mouth. Her heart clenched and her stomach dropped. It was like looking at a twin of the man she had loved and lost and it hurt more than she wanted to acknowledge.. If this had been her Arnold, she would be in his arms right now, just after she'd punched him and demanded to know where he'd be these last seven months. But it wasn't him and she'd never know.

Fighting the tightness in her throat, she forced out a small chuckle, hoping it sounded genuine, and shook her head. "Just yanking your chain, Football Head."

His grin was immediate. "It's good to see you again, Helga. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, this and that. I'm kind of a writer, I guess. Travel guide stuff," she trailed off and absently looked around the office, but it was mostly to keep her eyes off of him. So although she was looking at the pictures on the bookcase and plaques on his walls, she wasn't really seeing them. "Um…how about you?"

He was silent for a moment, long enough that it was still awkward and she looked over at him. His face was unreadable as he leaned against the desk, one hand in his pocket and the other resting against the dark wood. "This and that," he smirked lazily as he parroted her words, lightly tapping against the desk with a finger. "I actually work with Cotta in procuring missing items."

She turned her attention fully to him at that, interested. "Like Indiana Jones? Stealing items so they can be in a museum?"

He shrugged. "Not really. And I don't steal anything."

His blasé response caused her brows to frown. "So what is La Cabeza?"

She could see the hesitation in his face before he answered. "It's a statue. It's important to the indigenous people who live here."

He didn't elaborate and she didn't press, a feeling of uncertainty and familiarity to that short explanation. Dream Arnold had often told her stories about the Green Eye tribe that he and his parents helped out with from time-to-time. One story had been about El Corazon, a jeweled machine statue that held a sort of power to the people. It was something that helped them defeat illnesses, including that last bit of the sleeping sickness.

Could La Cabeza be the real version of her dream El Corazon? Surely not,. She'd never heard of either of them and it wasn't exactly like she could not remember hearing something about a group of people called the Green Eyes outside of her dreams. The Green Eyes weren't real people and neither was anything she had ever dreamed about with Arnold.

Oh gods how awkward as this? Thinking about the dream counterpart to the man standing before her? She could feel her neck heat up in embarrassment and she turned away again, hoping that he didn't see how red her face had gotten.

Thankfully, she was saved by Emiliano rushing back into the office. "Ah ha! It is all set! Eduardo is on his way to meet up with Alonso and Arnold, you will meet them after lunch tomorrow!" Emiliano embraced Helga again, kissing her cheeks with the loudest kiss she'd ever been given. "Mija, you have no idea how thankful you make this old man!"

As always with him, she couldn't help the bubble of laughter that escaped from her confusion. "Well, hopefully it is enough to thank you for hosting me."

"And so much more! Come, let's enjoy the rest of the evening!" She was ushered out of the office, Arnold trailing behind them.

She didn't stay out much longer, trying desperately to avoid Real Arnold as much as she could. Her hips were practically glued to Emiliano or Felina, keeping conversation with whomever she was introduced to at that time before allowing herself to be dragged away by her hosts. And even though Real Arnold hung around, there was absolutely no way she would be caught alone with him.

And even though she had promised to make it to brunch , Helga was gone from the house by nine the next morning.

Emiliano had spoken of a small ruin that was open to the public but wasn't very well known in the tourism industry. Considered visit-at-your-own-risk, the country typically tended to avoid publishing about it to local tour groups, but didn't out-right deny anyone from going there.

He had procured her a map and left it on his desk for her retrieval so that she could write about this attraction first. Because of this new development with La Cabeza, he recommended her going to the ruins and then, in two days' time, he would be free to show her enough hidden gems to fill books and books; more than enough to keep her readers happy.

And so when she grabbed the map, which admittedly looked more intricate than she thought it would, and further away to boot, she promptly left her hosts with a thankful note, promising to be back in a couple of days, and headed off to the ruins, trying to convince herself that she wasn't actually running away from a man who had been a figment in a dream but was now so very real..

The first part of her journey wasn't harrowing by any means; a simple, albeit long bus trip to Santiago, where she would then rent a car for the next part, and then bam, she'd be there.

At first it was a nice drive down the dirt road, stopping here and there to stretch her legs and take some pictures. She wasn't a photographer by any means, and even though she rarely looked back at any of her pictures from her previous trips , it was comforting to know that they were there should she ever be interested in looking back on them. And every once in a while, one would turn out awesome enough to publish with her articles.

She was fortunate that the road seemed to follow a river, making for a peaceful and interactive experience. Monkeys chattered in the trees above and the clear, albeit angry sound of the rushing river made her stop at one point and head towards it.

It was just when she reached the water, leaning down to wash the sweat from her face that the sound of a loud explosion echoed threateningly through the jungles, effectively freezing her in place. Birds burst from the canopy in panicked clouds seeking safety at higher altitudes and the monkeys' constant screeching was suddenly silenced. An unexpected feeling of dread slipped down her spine as the rational part of her brain tried to figure out what the noise had been. It had sounded way too much like a gunshot.

When it went off again, seemingly closer this time, she took off back towards the Jeep. In the distance where the shots had come from, she could vaguely make out the sounds of men screaming, their yells echoing throughout the jungle.

 _Way to go!_ she berated herself. _This is why you_ always stick to the road!

Luck was on her side because just as she broke through the greenery, she spotted the Jeep. She didn't hesitate as she threw her pack in the back seat, leaping into the driver's seat and started the car. It roared to life, the thrum of the engine competing with the pounding of her heart. She could hear two more shots, much closer this time, and she hit the gas so hard she was surprised her foot didn't go through the floor.

But just up ahead, a figure jumped out of the flora and turned as she slammed on the brake, the Jeep slightly fishtailing on the dirt as she tried her best not to hit the person in front of her. This was only slightly successful as they jumped to the side, barely missing the front bumper.

Whoever it was, they were covered in some sort of camouflage outfit, the top of their head and face hidden behind spray-painted meshing. She tried not to squeal in terror when the person jumped into the back of the cab and yelled out "¡Pega le!" revealing it was actually a he.

Helga tried not to panic and slammed on the gas again as her unwanted companion demanded, speeding away just as more men, this time dressed like regular people, rushed out of the bushes. She screamed and unconsciously ducked as another gunshot rang out, the bullet harmlessly hitting a tree to their right while she prayed to whoever or whatever would listen to not let her die. She heard the man behind her curse, or at least she thought it was a curse, and dragging a handgun from his waist, started firing back.

It was one hands down the single most terrifying moments she had ever experienced.

As they squealed around a bend, one last gunshot barked in the distance and she knew that the gunmen were too far away now. She was still tense, gripping the wheel as hard as she could and speeding as fast as she dareed down the dirt road, wondering how she could have led such an adventurous life only to die now.

There was no doubt in her mind that the crazed man hitching a ride in her Jeep was going to kill her. She was a witness to whatever the hell had just happened and being a foreigner was not going to be a good enough excuse. Oh, god, he was going to feed her to the alligators and the bugs and no one was ever going to find out what happened to her. Hopefully he would at least leave her phone so they could find some shred of evidence that she had been there.

After what felt like an eternity, the man let out an excited _woop!_ She jumped from the unexpectedness of it. "¡Dios mío!" He laughed as he jumped into the front seat and she tried not to freak out, hoping he wasn't about to kill her now. The least he could do was wait until they got to a town where there were other people! Maybe she could still escape? Surely there wasn't more than an hour left to the next town, unwritten on the map. "Eso fue-"

He stopped mid-sentence and Helga could do nothing more than stare straight ahead, convinced that if she looked towards him, he'd be holding a gun to her head and she'd run them off the edge and into the river and it would foil any chance of escape. On the other hand, it could be enough of a distraction for an escape...

From the corner of her eye, she could see that he wasn't holding a gun, but that didn't matter. One could easily materialize and she'd be dead. She'd seen it happen in tons of movies!

But instead of a gun, she could just make out him taking his head thing off, and she still refused to look. _I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead._

"Helga?!"

If she thought that she had hit the gas pedal hard before, it was nothing to the screeching halt of the brakes now. Who the hell would know her out here?

Only once they came to a stop did she turn to look at her unwanted passenger. And wished she never had.

Because there, sitting right next to her, was Arnold Shortman. Because of course it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go. And as always, thank you so much to DarkUnderworld for being such an amazing person and beta!


	4. Chapter 4

"What the hell?" she screeched, not caring if she sounded like some insane, over-dramatic valley girl. She had spent the entire day avoiding him, traveling hours and hours away from where he had been, and then suddenly here he was , hijacking her rented Jeep, playing Comando, and shooting at those men!

She must have said something like that aloud, because he was fully turned to her, holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, the other hand holding her arm in a light but firm grip. She flinched away, trying to calm her breathing and failing.

"Helga, I need you to calm down," he pleaded in a voice that was calm and steady.

"What was that! Who were they? Who are you? What is going on?" she asked in a voice that rose steadily with each consecutive question.

"Helga! Calm down," he ordered, grabbing her other shoulder and turning her body to more fully face him. She unconsciously focused on her breathing, trying to slow her rapid inhalations. She could only imagine what her face looked like; wide eyes and crazy hair. "Ok, good," he continued, and let go of her arms. "Are you ok?"

"No, I am not!" she bellowed, panicking as her already thundering heartbeat increased. . "I was just shot at, some random-ass crazy man jumped into my car who is actually you and I have no idea what just happened or what is happening and now I'm talking in a run off sentence and what the hell was that?!" She could barely understand what she had just said herself, but didn't really care at that moment. There was no way this was happening!

"Drink this," he shoved what appeared to be a water bottle in her hand and she gulped it down without question. Of course, if she had been more level headed she would have probably rejected it - he may look like Dream Arnold but he wasn't, and he had just been shooting at people - but she was relieved to find that the liquid she had chugged was, indeed, just water. After a few massive swallows and one heavy cough later, she felt like she could breathe normally again. "Ok?"

She nodded, handing the water bottle back to him. Having regained some sort of control over her body, she looked at him, taking in his hard features and green clothing. "What just happened?" she asked in a voice, she was pleased to note, that did not shake.

"I'll tell you, but I need you to keep driving, OK? They may catch up with us." With that threat, she focused back on the road, her foot hitting the gas, going as fast as she dared, but not at the breakneck speed she had been before.

It was a few minutes before he finally answered her question. "Those men were bad," he started, but she cut him off.

"Do not patronize me, Arnold! They had guns and so did you, you were both shooting at each other, so as far as I'm concerned you're both not on the good side!"

She could feel his scowl more than she could see it, since she was focusing on the road. "I am on the good side."

"You lied to me! You said-" he cut her off this time.

"I did not lie. I told you I procured artifacts and I do. Those men stole something that didn't belong to them and I'm giving it back to the rightful owners."

"By trying to get yourself killed, along with me!"

"I'm not trying to get anyone killed! It was supposed to go smoothly, but they somehow knew where to find me. Like they were waiting."

"Oh, that's comforting. Does that mean there's another ambush waiting around the corner?" she demanded as the wheels of the Jeep protested the sharpness of the corner she took too fast. She had no idea where they were going and hoped that there was a town around any corner now, even if it wasn't shown on the map.

After all, it was hand drawn who knew what was really up ahead?

"Look, I know you're scared but-"

"No, Arnold! I'm scared of rats and being eaten alive. This is no comparison! This is insanity!"

"Would you stop interrupting! Shit Helga, I'm trying to explain and you freaking out isn't helping."

She bit back a retort, wanting nothing more than to slam her fist into his cut jawline, but she resisted. Instead, she eased back on the gas and squeezed the wheel tighter. "Fine," she said through clenched teeth, "proceed."

He sighed then and she caught a glimpse of him rubbing his face. He mumbled something but it was too low for her to catch it. "La Cabeza, which you know about from last night, holds a great deal of power over the indigenous people here. There's a tribe in this area and someone, somehow infiltrated and stole it about five months ago. When we got word as to where it was, I took it back and I'm returning it to the tribe as it rightfully belongs to them."

"While that sounds reasonable, I cannot fathom why this would require killing someone over."

"It's made of gold, weighing about thirty pounds."

Her eyes widened at that information. So, yeah, she could see why people would fight and kill over that.

"And you're just going to give it back to them?"

"Yes. Without it, they'll die."

"Over some statue made of gold?"

"Whether it's because it's sacred to them or not, they believe that their harvest will not succeed without it. Nothing has grown since it's been stolen and they need it back."

"You really are like Indiana Jones. Sankara stones and all."

He didn't respond and she didn't say anything more. They drove in silence for the next hour until he told her to pull over and indicated that they would continue by foot.

As he jumped out of the Jeep, she frowned at him. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't know if you're telling the truth or not and I have no interest in getting shot at again."

He held onto the pole on the side of the open-top Jeep and stared down at her. "You can either come with me and be somewhat safe, or continue on and be in danger. . They'll have your license plate and will have notified the town up ahead, which is another two hours away. If they haven't caught up with you first, they'll get you there. Either way, they'll torture you for information and maybe, if you're lucky, they'll kill you."

She felt her heart clench in fear, dread filling her stomach with heavy lead. Just what kind of a mess had he gotten her into?

With as much of a level head as she could, she looked straight ahead. Turning on the car and ignoring Arnold's sound of protest as he leapt from the Jeep, she drove it about fifteen yards into a side area before turning it off and pocketing the keys. Jumping out, she immediately went to the rear and tried to hide the tire marks from the area. "If I'm going with you, I don't want anyone to suspect where we're going. It seems like they already know, but I'll be damned if they find us because of me," she growled at him when he caught up to her, snagging her backpack from the Jeep.

Slinging his own pack over his shoulder, he gave a sigh of annoyance as he replied to her assumption, "Kind of," he admitted. "The man who stole La Cabeza is dead and as far as we're aware, no one else knows where the village is. They may have a vague idea of the general area, but not the actual location itself."

Helga frowned at that and, once she was satisfied that the Jeep was as hidden as it was going to be, began to follow him into the dense jungle.

With no path.

This was going to be super.

"So did he steal it and not tell anyone where they were hiding it, or did someone from the tribe betray them and smuggle it out?"

Arnold didn't stop nor did he answer, continuing on. With a huff, she assumed the latter and followed him into the dense foliage, hoping he knew where the hell he was going.

It was some time later when she started talking to him. "How far is this place? Isn't it going to be dark soon?"

"We're not going to make it by nightfall. We'll be lucky to get there by tomorrow night."

Helga was no stranger to sleeping outside, exposed to the elements in questionable areas crawling with potential nocturnal predators,, but she wasn't exactly sure how this was going to play out.

She always made sure to carry dehydrated food, protein bars and nuts with her, so she knew she wasn't going to go hungry, but if these people were as isolated and secretive as she thought they were, then who knew how far away they actually were. Surely they had to be more than a two day hike from the road…?

If it wasn't for the fact that they were following the river downstream, she would have no idea where they were going. The foliage overhead was growing thicker by the minute and the light was already becoming dimmer. The river itself was some distance off, but she could hear it. She wondered if it was just as dense there as it was here.

"Are you meeting someone to drop this La Cabeza off? Or are they going to want to kill me for finding out their secret location?"

He shook his head and she could imagine the smirk that she picked up in his voice. She'd seen it so many times, after all, even if it hadn't been real. "There's a drop off location. No one is going to kill you."

"Except for those men we're running from."

"Yes...except for them. I'm sorry you got involved in this. I can't imagine the odds of you being there. Weren't you supposed to be at the Spider Temple?"

She sighed in exasperation, fighting off one large leaf after another. It was slow going with them having to cut their own path without a machete, but at least they hadn't run into additional trouble. "Yeah, that's where I was going. I had the Jeep for maybe an hour before I ran into you."

He stopped then, breathing heavy from fighting the plants and the humidity. "What are you talking about? You're nowhere near there. It's an hour max from Cotta's place in the opposite direction."

She had stopped when he had, but at his assertion she frowned in confusion. "But the map...there's no way it's not correct." Flipping her backpack to her front, she quickly pulled it out and handed it to him. "See?" she said, pointing to the marking that looked a lot like a temple.

His face tensed as he took one look at it, rolled it up, and stuck it in his own bag.

"Hey!" she made to grab it but he just ignored her.

"You must have grabbed the wrong map. This leads somewhere else."

"So? I'll go there instead."

He turned from her and resumed walking. "It's not open to the public."

She huffed again and waited before following. "Ok, fine, whatever. Take it. Let's just finish this up so I can get back."

He didn't respond and in a childish act, she slowed her pace, not wanting to be that close to him anymore. It forced her to work harder, him not holding the branches back like before, but she didn't care. She couldn't believe this. How was all of this possible? Of all the places to be, he was here? And so what if she took the wrong map, that didn't explain how they just both happened to be in the same area at the exact same moment. Her trying to find a temple to write about and him making a relic drop to some hidden tribe.

Maybe she should write stories. This would be one hell of a tale, that was for sure.

"Helga!"

His voice was more of a 'hurry up!' tone rather than a 'there's danger!', so she didn't move any faster. He had dragged her into this mess and she'd make him deal with it. No one was following them, that she was sure of, or else they would have been caught by now.

When she broke through the bushes, it opened up to a riverbank. Arnold was removing some leaves from something that looked suspiciously man-made. "Is that a boat?" she asked, shocked. Where had that come from?

"Yes. If we ride this through the night, we'll be there before dawn."

"That beats walking for another twenty-four hours," she said excitedly, until she got closer.

She eyed the craft as she and made no move to help him get it ready for travel. While it was definitely a canoe, it didn't look that sturdy, and it was so small she doubted it would hold both of them. "Are you sure this will work? It looks questionable to me. How'd you even find it?"

He was pushing it into the water and held onto the side to keep it from floating away. The current wasn't too strong, but it was strong enough that if it were to be caught up, they'd have one hell of a time catching it. "It's not that old. Everything will be fine. Get in."

She hesitated and looked back at him as if he was crazy, not missing that he hadn't answered her about how he had found it. "I think I'd prefer to not risk it and keep walking, so-"

She was cut off by the sound of a gunshot from upstream. Instinct took over and she ducked, looking towards the sound but didn't see anything. Suddenly, shouts rang out followed by another gunshot. Oh no...they had followed after all!

"Shit! Get in!"

Realizing she didn't have a choice, she scrambled into the canoe, barely getting her foot over the side before they pushed off. She squeaked and held the side, immediately grabbing for one of the oars as Arnold jumped in behind her, rocking their little boat. "Can you row?"

"Yes!" she shouted back, not knowing if he could hear her or not over the continued gunshots and did her best to steer away from some upcoming rocks. Out of all the dangerous situations she'd been in, never had she been shot at. And this was twice in the same day!

They worked in unison, dodging rocks and trying to put as much distance between them and the men that had been following them. She had no idea if they too had a boat or if they had been walking but there was no way in hell she was looking back.

However, after some length of time, and the relative silence that had settled around them, she figured that it was the latter. It didn't slow their speed, however, and they continued on as fast as the river would take them.

Helga had no idea how much time had passed before her arms started to fail, her muscles not used to this type of exercise, and she finally allowed herself to relax. "Do you think we lost them?"

"Yeah. They would have caught up to us by now if they were still following us. I think we'll be safe until we get there."

"Great. Wonderful. What about on the way back?"

He didn't respond and she snorted. Of course. Sighing, she rubbed her face, as if that would erase everything that had happened since that afternoon. "This is not how I expected the day to turn out."

He smirked behind her, still steering to avoid the rocks, but the speed they were now traveling at had significantly lessened, allowing them to coast. "You mean this isn't common in your writing adventures?"

"Not even close. The closest to danger I got to was slipping down a mountain and having to leave an area due to civil unrest. Nothing even remotely this crazy."

"Once we get out of this, you can thank me for the adventure then."

Helga groaned and stretched her back. "The only thing I'm going to do if we get out of this is break your nose."

"Even after saving your life? I'm wounded," he complained , his voice rising with mock hurt.

"Can it, Football Head. There wouldn't be any life saving if you hadn't dragged me into your little mission. And I saved your life first! Where's my thank you for that?" she wondered, her voice less scathing than she had thought it would be.

"Thank you," he responded almost immediately. For some reason, that surprised her but she wasn't sure why. She sighed in response and rubbed her neck, ignoring the sweat that pooled there.

"Yeah, sure, anytime. Just hopefully not again any time soon,"she replied flippantly.

"I can't promise that, but I'll definitely try," he shot back, a hint of humor in his voice along with something else she couldn't quite identify.

She rolled her eyes at his reply and wondered if that was just his sense of humor or if he was being sincere. Either way, she didn't have a response and took the time to look around. They were definitely getting deeper into the jungle now; the river was narrowing and the trees were thicker here than they had been while they had been walking. It would definitely be nice to get there in a third of the time but it was going to be an absolute bitch getting back. If they made it that far. She really hoped this was worth it.

"Do you know exactly where you're going from here? Like, where we're supposed to stop and get off this joy ride?"

"Yes," he answered easily. "It'll be dark soon and if we continue on, we'll get there in a few hours."

"How soon before sunrise?"

"Maybe nine hours or so. Then it'll just be a short walk from there."

"So it'll still be dark when we get to this place? How are you going to know when to stop?" she wondered, concerned that they would miss their stop and end up floating down the river until it was light enough to see again.

"I've been down here enough to know," he answered confidently.

She didn't like that answer at all, but didn't fight him on it. She had put enough of her life in his hands at this point that it would be pointless to question it further. Instead, she settled in to get more comfortable.

Pulling off her backpack, she pulled out a couple of protein bars and wordlessly offered two to him over her shoulder, still facing ahead. She had no idea when he had eaten last, but she didn't doubt that he wasn't at least as hungry as she was. "It's not much, but it should hold you over at least until morning."

"Thank you." His fingers brushed against hers as he took them and she instantly had a flash of her last dream. A shiver of knowledge ran up her arm and down her stomach, remembering exactly what those fingers were capable of. Well, not his...but his. A pang of longing jolted through her but she tried to force it away.

Clearing her throat, she slowly unwrapped her own bar. "So...it sounds like you've been here for a while."

"About ten years now, I guess."

A lump grew in her throat and no matter what she did, she couldn't swallow it. Grabbing a water bottle, she took a large gulp, knowing that she should be saving her water as much as she could but not caring at that moment. "Do you think you can handle steering for a bit? I don't know how much longer I can stay up."

It was a somewhat of a lie. While she was exhausted, emotionally, mentally, and physically, she could have stayed up if she needed to. The truth was she didn't think she could talk to him about his past. There would be too many comparisons and she'd done enough of that with Dream Arnold too many times over the last few years. To do that with Real Arnold would gut her.

"Yeah, sure, of course." She felt him scoot back, giving her as much room as possible to lay down. It would be cramped and she'd be sore when she woke up, but it would do. She'd slept in worst places before.

Using her backpack as a makeshift pillow, she forced herself asleep, hoping that when she woke, she'd find that everything had been nothing more than one crazy ass dream.

That, of course, wasn't the case. She woke a few hours later to the gentle rocking of the canoe, well into the night. There was a surprising amount of light from the moon and stars above that it didn't hinder their ride too much, but an odd rock would knock them every so often to prove that she couldn't see as well as she had hoped.

Arnold allowed himself to doze for a short amount of time, leaving her to steer, but he was under the impression that they were getting close and so he slept lighter than she had.

She still had no idea how he could tell where exactly they were - the light was out, yes, but not nearly enough for her to pick out any discernible landmarks. She could barely see the shore.

Nonetheless, about thirty minutes after he woke himself up, he was directing them towards land. Her feet connected with surprisingly sturdy ground, not the slush she was expecting, and it took little effort to pull the canoe out of the water. He pushed it under some bushes, and from what she could see, effectively hiding it from view. But darkness could hide a lot, and morning would let them know how well Arnold had completed his task.

They walked only a minute from the water, her holding onto his pack for guidance before he stopped. "We'll stay here until light. Then it'll be about thirty minutes before we get to the drop."

Helga closed her eyes briefly at his words. Then they'd have to make their way back, no doubt walking into the same ambush that they had on their way here. There was no comfort in that.

She should have taken this time to go back to sleep, but truth be told, she was too wound up. Logic told her that she wouldn't actually see anyone or anything, but he did tell her there was a drop off point. And she was excited to see that.

"Why San Lorenzo?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself and she mentally berated herself. No! She didn't want to know anything about him!

He was silent long enough for her to hope that he had fallen asleep before he responded. "I was born here, actually. I guess something inside me always told me to come back."

She swallowed thickly, memories of Dream Arnold sharing stories of volcanoes and deadly sleeping sicknesses flooding her. "That's cool. I didn't know that."

"I didn't know until I was nine and I didn't exactly tell anyone. Kids would have thought I was crazy."

"I dunno. It sounds kind of cool to me."

He didn't respond right away but she thought she heard him shrug. "What about you? How did you end up here?"

Oh shit, what she should say? Truth, always tell the truth as much as you could. But there was no way she was going to share Dream Arnold's crazy birth as the inspiration of this impromptu visit. So what if it was a coincidence with Real Arnold? Hey Football Head, that's funny. I've been dreaming of you for over fifteen years almost every night and he said he was born here too. What a co-wink-a dink! "Emiliano. He'd been bugging me to come out for a while."

"Ah, for your articles. You're a writer you said, right?"

"Travel stuff, yeah. Road less traveled, hidden gems and what not." She was stumbling over her words but he either didn't notice or didn't care because he didn't comment on it. After spending the day with him yesterday, she couldn't believe this would be the most awkward of it. But at that time they had distractions: forging through uncut jungle, steering a canoe, and trying not to die. Now they had time to talk until dawn broke enough to light their way to more uncertainty.

"That's interesting. Get a lot of readers?"

"A decent amount, I guess," she responded, feeling a bit more at ease. Talking about her work was a lot easier than talking about him. "It pays the bills."

"Been to a lot of places?"

She nodded, fiddling with her bag's strap. "Oh yeah, more than I ever dreamed I'd go. I've been to every continent except Antarctica and just over fifty countries so far. It's been amazing. Have you done any traveling?"

"No, just here. My parents - oh," he interrupted himself as if just realizing something, "they showed back up about a year after you moved away. We moved back and forth between here and Washington and we kind of just stayed here after I started university. And I never left."

She nodded, hating the similarity, but pushed back any thoughts, instead commenting on his parents. "I bet you were ecstatic when they came back."

"Yeah. My grandparents too." He was silent for a moment before shifting the conversation back to her. "How about your parents? How are they doing?"

She didn't ask about his grandparents because she didn't want to have any similarities pop up. "I have no idea. I haven't spoken to them in years."

"Would it be rude if I said good riddance?"

She let out a surprised snicker, expecting him to say some shit like she should give them a chance, they were her parents, blah blah. Typical Arnold. But this wasn't 10-year-old Arnold. This wasn't even Dream Arnold. "That's not very Football Headed of you, Arnoldo. But, no, not at all. They were never the best. They could have been worse, yeah, but I'm sure they don't even remember me."

"I doubt that. You are hard to forget."

She smiled at that, leaning further against the tree behind her that she really hoped didn't have ants crawling all over it. "Maybe while I'm around, but I'm sure everyone was thrilled I moved away and then quickly forgot about me after. I know I've forgotten a lot of them."

"I don't think so. Phoebe mentioned you in her valedictorian speech at graduation."

That surprised her. She and Phoebe had lost contact years before senior year and she couldn't even remember why. If she were to be asked about it now, she would have said it was just a natural falling out. "She did?"

"Yeah. She said you had protected her during her vulnerable years before she had enough courage to stand up for herself and attributed her success in highschool to your friendship." Her heart swelled at that and she couldn't help the grin. She had no idea that her childhood best friend had thought that way. While it was true she had put people in their place for even thinking of being mean to Pheebs, she didn't realize it was that impactful.

"Huh, wow, who would have known… I wonder what she's up to these days."

"She and Gerald got married last year just before she started her residency. They're still in Hillwood."

She grinned again, really glad to hear that. Who knew they'd end up together after all these years? There had been a thing in fourth grade, but it had just been a little crush. Now she wanted to know more. "You should reach out to her when you get back to the States. I bet she'd like that."

"Yeah, maybe. I tend to avoid going home, so yeah...that's a good idea."

"See? Not forgotten."

She laughed at him. "Whatever, Arnoldo. I bet you forgot all about me until that little speech."

"My constant tormentor? Hardly! Life may have been more quiet, but who could forget all the spitballs and gum?"

She scoffed. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I was the perfect student."

He smirked in response. "Right. You were a real angel, getting scars from flower crowns and all. Tell me, which is better: dandelions or daisies?"

She groaned and threw what felt like a rock towards his direction. It still wasn't quite light enough yet to really see her surroundings, but her internal clock knew it would be up soon. "Oh, shut up. I stopped playing with flowers years ago, Mr. Botanist."

She could feel the sudden tension in the air and it took her by surprise. Did he hear something out there? She strained to listen but could only hear the night bugs dimming, most likely starting to settle in for their sleep as daybreak grew closer. He was more skilled and knew this jungle though and she was ignorant to everything surrounding her.

"I never said anything about being a botanist." His voice was low and she snapped her head back towards him, still just barely able to make out his form. She couldn't see his face, but she could hear his skeptical tone. Shit, had she really said that out loud? Quick, think of something!

"Emiliano told me."

"That seems like an odd thing to bring up."

"Well, you know Emiliano...he doesn't really have a filter." She looked away from him, hoping she sounded sincere.

"Sure." He sounded like what she said made sense and it was definitely true. Emiliano tended to spit whatever out he was thinking or thought someone should know whether it made sense at the time or not. "He mentioned it at the party?"

Arnold was with Emiliano most of the night so there was no way she could say then. He would have heard it and there would have been a discussion about it. "No, at breakfast. Before I left."

She could feel his gaze on her and the tension didn't ease up. "I thought you had left before breakfast."

Crap. She frowned, trying to think her way out of this. How could she have slipped up like that? It was so easy, seeing him in darkness and falling into the same banter she and Dream Arnold shared all the time. What was the likelihood that Real Arnold had also gone into botany? She had to have heard it from somewhere!

She quickly thought back over their conversations, feeling the tension rise as the sun broke. Had he mentioned it before? Had Emiliano? Maybe it had slipped and there hadn't been a conversation because it was just common knowledge around their friends? Maybe it had been -

She froze, turning her gaze back to his stoic, suspicious expression. Her back straightened, and, leaning away from the tree, she sat upright. "How did you know about my scar?"

His face and eyes didn't betray him, still staring directly at her. "Cotta must have mentioned it."

She slowly shook her head. "I've never told him. And whenever anyone asks, I tell them it was a sports accident."

There was a tense twitch next to his eye and the air became stiflingly thick. Her heart beat hard against her chest as they continued to wordlessly stare at each other. There was no way he could have known that. No one knew the truth behind her scar. She'd been telling the lie for so many years she herself had almost forgotten about the actual cause over time.

She sprung up then, dropping her bag as she continued to stare down at him, too strained to keep sitting. Slowly, he too rose, not revealing anything he was thinking. She knew she was an open book, full of confusion and tredpition and who knew what else. There were too many emotions tumbling through her that she couldn't get a handle over them, and besides, she was never good with masking her emotions except when she was able to hide behind a wall of anger.

"Helga…" his voice was tight as he took a step towards her. There wasn't much space between them already and she felt like she was suffocating. Her hands flew up, barely touching him to keep him as far from her as she could. She couldn't breathe. This wasn't happening. There just was no way this could be real!

"All these years, and you were real."

Helga shook her head in denial. This had to be some sick joke that he was playing on her. He had no idea what he was doing to her, how horrible this was of him. Her hands balled into fists and she pushed him away with them. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She took a risk and looked up at him and instantly regretted it. He was looking at her like he was seeing the ocean for the first time and it was all Dream Arnold that it was pure torture. There was just no way. "Atlatona."

And then she broke. Tears she had no idea were so close to falling burst from her and a sob escaped, erupting like the volcano from his story. His arms were around her instantly and she clutched him, burying her face into the crook of his neck and for the first time since she saw him in Emiliano's office, she took in his scent. It was the same earthy Arnold smell that she had grown used to. And his arms...they felt the same as every other time he had held her. This was real, but she still couldn't, wouldn't believe it. It couldn't be. Any moment she was going to wake up on the ground and all of this will have been a lie.

His arms tightened around her, his own face buried against her shoulder. "These last seven months have been the worst in my life. When I saw you walk into Cotta's office, I thought I was hallucinating." He kissed her neck before pulling back, cupping her jaw. She hated her face being touched, and he knew that, keeping hands lower. She choked back another sob at the realization. "I thought I was going crazy. I noticed your scar first, and then you said you were a writer. I had always thought the dreams were real, the priests told me they were and that we were linked, but even after everything I've seen and been through, I couldn't really bring myself to quite believe it."

"What happened? Why did they stop? It was hell. I thought maybe it had to do with something about completing my childhood crush on you."

He grinned and kissed her, their arms desperately clutching each other, fearful that the other may disappear and only breaking apart when they needed to breathe. "I think I pissed off the gods. I wasn't lying when I said it was a sacred place. And having sex on their land isn't exactly respectful."

She felt the flush take over her entire body as she stared at him in shock. "What…? Someone was watching us?"

"You're gorgeous when you're embarrassed," he grinned, peppering her face with kisses. "Of course they were. I believe I did mention it was their domain."

"But...they're not real."

He pulled back from her face then, smiling but still serious. "Oh, they most definitely are. Not to the degree that people think, but they control a lot more in this corner of the world than people could imagine possible. It's more scientific than magic, but we're not nearly at their level yet."

She frowned at him but didn't remove her arms from around him. "And you think you're one of them…"

He only grinned and shook his head. "Not in the slightest. The Green Eyes do though, and their belief holds power. It's true that no food has grown for them since La Cabeza was stolen and nothing will grow until it's returned to them."

"But how can that be? It's just a statue."

"And dreams are just dreams, unique to the weaver."

"Touché…"

He grinned at her and kissed her deeply once again. Her heart swelled, finally believing that this was indeed real and it wasn't imagined. Finally, once they pulled back again, both breathing hard from the lack of oxygen but not wanting to part, she let out a breathy laugh. "I know you're here but I just can't believe it."

He continued to grin at her, pecking her lips twice more. "I'm never letting you go. We have a lot to talk about. Let's give La Cabeza back, avoid the piratas, and we'll figure out what's going to happen from here."

She grinned back at him and nodded. "Together."

He smiled back, kissing her once more. "Together."

* * *

"You know, Grandma always said that I was meant to marry Eleanor. I think I almost had a heart attack when you told me she always called you that."

"Maybe she wasn't as crazy as everyone thought she was."

"No, she definitely was. But she was obviously more enlightened than we ever gave her credit for. You know, she used to torment Grandpa as kids too, just like you."

"She did not!"

"Yep, sure did. It was eeringly the same, except I think Grandma was even meaner to Grandpa than you were to me. Actually, Grandpa always insisted you liked me."

"It sounds like maybe you should have listened to your grandparents more. Obviously nothing got by them."

"Probably, but I wouldn't have changed this way for anything. I love you."

"I love you too, Football Head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it guys. Thank you so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this and thank you to DarkUnderworld for betaing!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to DarkUnderworld for betaing this for me. I originally wrote this back in 2014 and after quite a few changes, I knew I was turning a blind eye to things but didn't realize how much until she completely cleaned it up for me. I appreciate you so much!


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